


in the 5am light

by orosea



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, mild mention, more angst at the beginning happier towards the middle and ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orosea/pseuds/orosea
Summary: "You didn’t see anything.” The words are hissed, grating between Nathan's teeth with blatant ferocity. He leaves the bathroom quickly, gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.The words inscribed on Max’s left shoulder blade burn.





	in the 5am light

**Author's Note:**

> hello im a mess. also this is 5k words?? it was gonna be longer but i got less motivated halfway through so lol maybe ill do a p.2. also this is mostly canon compliant but rachel is alive because i said so and nathan isnt as involved with jefferson (also point typos out for girl whos bad at editing AND this isnt canon compliant with before the storm i wouldnt know bc i havent played it)
> 
> (title is from technicolor beat by oh wonder)

She stumbles, knocking over a broom. Max was never known for being especially graceful but her clumsiness couldn’t have shown itself at a worse time. The gun in the boy’s hand clatters to the floor, his frame startled and frantic. The blue haired girl bolts, not bothering to make sure Max was ok.

He spots her, hands gripping the bathroom tile. “You didn’t see anything.” The words are hissed, grating between the blond boy’s teeth with blatant ferocity. He leaves the bathroom quickly, gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

The words inscribed on Max’s left shoulder blade _burn_.

* * *

 

She doesn’t give soulmates much thought after that. She doesn’t think of an eternity in love or an soul to match hers. There is no romance in the idea, but then again, she doesn’t know what she expected with words like that etched into her skin.

 _“You didn’t see anything.”_ There was no innocence in those words. She was almost witness to a crime. A crime committed by her soulmate. God— He almost shot someone. What if she he hadn’t tripped over the broom? Would that girl be dead? Or was he bluffing?

Her mark itches sometimes. The intensity amping up whenever she’s in a class with him. Nathan Prescott. A rich kid drug peddler is her soulmate. It’s not healthy she knows, soulmates have an emotional link, feeding off of each other, so ignoring this… whatever it is, could be dangerous.

Nathan’s emotions are… dark though. She wakes up sweating sometimes, filled with panic or even rage. His emotions are never good or even content. It’s like he’s a boiling mess, a hectic scribble in the corner of her mind. Most of all though, it is fear, a constant thrum that's heady and thick. Like he is looking over his shoulder at all times or something is watching him. He is terrified and she cannot do anything for him. She doesn’t know if she wants to.

It turns out that the girl that Nathan almost murdered is Chloe. This blue haired girl is sweet, friendly Chloe. The girl Max abandoned when things got too hard. She waves Max into her truck, rusty and smelling of weed. Something about it seems unlike her while simultaneously being intensely Chloe. There’s another girl in the truck, long brown hair that curled slightly at the tips and a mischievous smile.

She’s Chloe’s soulmate and Max doesn’t ask whether they are platonic or not because there is something nasty burning its way up her throat. Jealousy or disappointment. She wonders if Nathan can feel it. Rachel is close in a way that Max can no longer be.

She remembers wishing that Chloe was her soulmate once. Chloe, the Chloe that was soft and open with emotion, loved the world and wanted a great future, the one that gave Max confidence. She helped her pursue her own passion of photography and Max will be forever grateful. It’s a shame Max is such a terrible friend.

How did it turn out like this? Chloe, herself, Nathan? During the ride, Rachel begins to thank Max profusely for saving Chloe, her hand wrapped around Max’s tightly. Her hands tremble, chipped acrylic nails scratching into Max’s skin.

“He’ll pay!” Chloe growls, eyes on the road. “That douche will pay!” Rachel gives Chloe a pointed look that the other girl doesn’t quite catch.

Rachel turns, big earrings jingling and Max is reminded of a woodland nymph. Something about her is enchanting, the freckles dancing across her skin or the tendrils of hair curled behind her ears. Chloe is smitten and it’s not hard for Max to see she cannot compete with that. “I really appreciate what you did for Chloe. It was brave.”

“Brave?” Max echoes, lips almost twitching into a frown. “Right.” Rachel thought she did it because she was being courageous. She wishes that were the case, she wishes someone would save her. It feels selfish. Selfish to accept this praise for something she didn’t do.

“We should report him to the police.” Rachel continues and a spear of panic lances through her.

“No!” The outburst almost causes Chloe to slam the breaks and whip her head towards Max in surprise. Instead, she jerks, steering wheel clutched hard in her hands. “I mean,” Max fumbles. “He’s a Prescott. It would be like talking to a brick wall.”

Chloe curses and flexes her ringed fingers. “She’s right Rachel, they almost own the town.” Chloe growls. The rest of the ride is awkward and silent, so quiet that Max can only feel the pulses of the bond. Like a tentative reassurance. It has the opposite effect.

* * *

 

Max has never adequately talked to Nathan. That is her only small comfort. That her words haven’t been spoken to him yet. She wonders what they are, if there is something just as venomous inked into his skin. Her shoulder prickles.

“Max, you good?” Chloe asks, snaking a hand around Rachel’s arm in the booth to grab a french fry. Max swirls a straw in her chocolate milkshake.

“Just distracted.” She replies offhandedly and the bell on the door dings before Chloe can question her further. The relief is no longer than a second because at that moment, a wave of anger and paranoia bubbles in her gut. He’s here. That explains why the bond was louder as the neared the diner.

Nathan stops dead in front of their table, Victoria at his heels. A large hand rests on the cool tabletop and Max refuses to look at it, like it will somehow petrify her. “Hey Chloe.” His tone is teasing, playful even. But Max feels the rage hidden, pooling and intensifying, malleable like clay.

She almosts starts to hyperventilate, but her heart is racing, galloping. It feels like she’s a sixth grader again, everyone staring at her, _judging_  her. She realizes a second too late that Nathan can feel it, just as she can feel his emotions. He straightens as if he was electrocuted and Victoria gives him a questioning stare that has Max even more anxious.

His gaze lands on Max. Whose heart stutters, skips like a record. “Oh. I never got your name.” He’s pretending he doesn’t recognize her as the girl in the bathroom. Max is almost paralyzed, stuck between keeping her mouth shut or opening it to give him the worst mark she can think of.

“Leave her alone she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.” Rachel says measuredly, sensing Max’s distress. Nathan’s eyes dart from between them quickly before urging Victoria to follow him to the back of the diner. It relieves her when Nathan leaves almost easily, but her blood runs cold when he says what seems like a promise as he walks away.

“See you at school.”

Max can’t. She absolutely can’t do this. Chloe all but chases after her when they’re done eating. Her arms catch Max, gripping onto her shoulders. “What did he do to you after I ran?” Chloe sounds upset, panicky even. It makes Max feel so inexplicably guilty.

Her response comes out tired. And she is, Max is so, so, tired. She’s had so many sleepless nights with Nathan’s terror seeping into her mind. “Nothing.” Max tells her honestly. “Nothing.”

Chloe looks disappointed in her. Max knows Nathan can feel the guilt seeping under her skin.

* * *

 

Contrary to the threat, if you can call it that, Nathan doesn’t hunt her down at school. She spends wednesday, thursday, and friday eating lunch outside. It becomes her habit, sitting on the small bench near Samuel’s shed and tossing bits of peanut butter sandwich to squirrels.

It relaxes her until he finds her monday. Max knows she expected it but can’t stop the tide of apprehension pushing and pulling inside her like a choppy ocean. “You can calm down.” He says and it’s exhausted. So exhausted that Max almost feels sympathy pang in her chest. Almost.

Nathan looks as terrible as he sounds, hair left unstyled and lying in soft curls over his forehead, red rimmed eyes with distinct bags hanging under them. Like he’d been crying. Or not sleeping. Or both. “I’m sorry.” He says and Max almost jumps in shock. He feels it and glances her way skeptically.

“I don’t mean about Chloe.” He doesn’t say it haughtily or with any malice but rather with a tone that indicates he doesn’t want to talk about it. Like, ironically, he’s uncomfortable. “I know you feel the bond. You know I’m a freak.”

Max can’t quite understand what she’s hearing. Or what he wants. Standing here though, Nathan in front of her, just as torn up as she was, is making her feel strange.

“You’re not a freak.” She feels conflicted as soon as she says it and sees an almost visible shiver go through Nathan, his hand darting to drift across his ribcage. Those are her words, she realizes, she put the word ‘freak’ on his skin forever. God. Her tongue is sandpaper in her mouth when she speaks again.

“You’re wrong, Caulfield.” He murmurs. “What you’re feeling? When you wake up at night sweating? It’s me.” His words are coming out stilted, the familiar bite of his words returning.

“It’s not you, you’re… sick.” She tries weakly. Nathan looks like he’s about to cry. Fat, malcontent tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It makes her uncomfortable and Max squirms. It makes him feel human and vulnerable.

“I don’t care about what you or my fuckin' shrink says! It’s hard to accept you’re sick if it just feels like who I am.” The squirrels skitter off towards the trees at his raised voice and Max has to physically keep herself from flinching. He feels it though, she notices by the deflate of his shoulders. Defeated. “Let’s just agree to ignore each other.”

If this were a week ago Max would have gladly agree, probably even would’ve given him a handshake. But this, this feels wrong. Nathan… Nathan doesn’t look he needs anyone to abandon him.

Max knows what happens when you abandon a soulmate bond. The, “Okay.” leaves her mouth anyway.

* * *

 

Chloe knows something is wrong the next time she sees Max at the diner. It isn’t hard, Max admits, with the bags under her eyes and mussed hair she certainly looks like a car crash. She can’t stop his nightmares but they certainly stop her, from sleeping, that is.

Nathan had a dream the night before. Which means that in turn, Max had a dream. It’s blurry, considering their bond isn’t developed at all, but it's terrifying. Voices had surrounded her, some she knew, like Victoria, others she didn’t. They were all telling her to do things. None of them good. Hurt herself. Hurt someone. Her hand had spasmed and the gunshot that followed had woken her up in a frigid sweat.

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Chloe is gentle, or at least trying.

A pause.

“Nathan Prescott is my soulmate.” Max says it without thinking. Chloe’s mouth opens, then closes. She proceeds to flounder for a good minute and Max feels like the ground is going to swallow her. She’ll disappear right under this booth.

“Are you-” She stops. “Do you want the bond?” Chloe is reassuring, she doesn’t say anything malicious about Nathan. She just wants Max to be okay but she can sense the undercurrent of _“You shouldn’t accept the bond.”_

Like a dam breaking loose, Max slumps, discouraged. Tension eases from her shoulders as Chloe frantically looks around, almost as if someone is watching them. All those fears she had, about betraying Chloe or Rachel seem ridiculous. You can’t choose a soulmate.

“I want to help him.” The words are soft and seem to surprise Chloe. “You don’t know what has came through the bond.” Max stumbles through her words. A gun flashes through her vision. “It’s not all—he has issues.”

“Max,” Her voice is uncertain. “You know I can’t-I’m sorry.” Max’s stomach drops. She was an idiot to think Chloe would be able to accept this. Classic Max. Selfish as always.

Chloe leaves in a blur of cerulean that makes Max wish she never said anything. The diner is all too stuffy and after fishing some crumpled dollar bills out of her pocket she ditches her booth.

The sky is irritatingly blue and Max squints in distaste, ducking under the bus stop. The depression of Chloe’s earlier disapproval is setting into a low simmer of annoyance deep in Max’s gut. She understands why Chloe acted like she did, she really does, but it still stings like betrayal.

Her phone vibrates right as the bus pulls to a screech in front of her.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER: whos got you all pissed off**

**MAX: if i didn't already know who this was it would be creepy**

Max’s finger hovers over the ‘add to contacts’ button. Biting her lip she decides to reply to his next text instead.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER: and if i didnt know any better id say youre avoiding the question**

**MAX: good thing you dont know better considering you’ve already broken our agreement**

There is an unbearably long pause until the next reply. Max wonders if she went too far.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER: i know you’ve been getting the nightmares**

**UNKNOWN NUMBER: breaking the bond is making them worse**

Max hops onto the bus, the bus driver giving her a skeptical stare like she was some kind of troublemaker. Considering how she looks right now, she doesn’t blame him. She really can’t do this. She thought she could but the stress of it is gnawing away at her sanity. Or Nathan is. It’s Catch-22. Her head lulls onto the glass of window.

She wants to cry. She wants Chloe to hug her, put a band-aid on her shoulder like they were kids and she took a fall from a swing set. Max flexes her back in discomfort, the mark humming low on her skin. The things that used to be endearing are all of a sudden twisted, the writing is no longer cutely messy, it’s shaky and almost unhinged. Ugly.

She doesn’t want the nightmares the rest of her life. She’s tied to Nathan whether she likes it or not. It makes her bitter that she’s saddled with a burden. You shouldn’t think of your soulmate as a burden, she knows, but how many people have someone who almost shot a girl as a soulmate?

She’s struck with memories of learning about people who broke bonds with felons or people serving prison sentences. “Breaking a bond, no matter who it is or what they’ve done, is considered a crime against the universe. Both sides will suffer, their emotions morphing, amplified, and uncontrollable due to not properly nurturing the bond.” It drives you insane. Fuck that.

**MAX: okay. i’ll try.**

**MAX: this isn’t a one way street though**

**NATHAN: see you at 6 behind the dorms**

What has she gotten herself into?

* * *

 

Nathan is shaking, like full blown trembling and when he looks at her, pupils blown wide, It doesn’t take Max more than three seconds to realize he’s coming off of a high. An immediate sour taste fills her mouth, she knew she shouldn’t have come here. Before she can turn back, Nathan jerks forward and grips her hand.

“Wait!” It sends a shock through her forearm and she tries to yank it away but he holds on tighter, nails digging into her palm. He voice is gruff and sounds much too similar to his tone in the bathroom.

“God!” Max hisses. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.” He hand, sweaty and red, slips from his and she cradles it closely to her chest.

“You think I wanna be here?” Nathan’s words sound gravelly and broken but Max curls her lip at his tone. His eyebrows knit and Max doesn’t need her mark to tell her that his anger is coming full force. “That I wanna be bonded to some hipster freak who can’t go a week without third wheeling any of her friends because everyone knows how awkward she is?”

“Freak?” Max echoes, too stunned at the word choice to fully comprehend what he said. Nathan pales. “I’m not the one who has the word on my skin forever.” It’s too far. She knows it and yet nothing stops the maliciousness from spilling over her lips.

She’s felt a lot of emotions through the bond, everything from euphoria of a high to the deepest of rages. She’s never felt hurt though and it stuns her to her core when the emotion pours forth, even though Nathan tries to contain it. “Nathan, I’m so sor-”

“Save it.” He bites, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. It’s 6 PM on a Saturday and Max suddenly realizes how tired he is. Her heart pangs with sympathy, if she can’t sleep from the nightmares then he most definitely can’t. She was a last resort. “I know what you meant.”

Max collapses onto the bench adjacent to them. “No, Nathan.” He frowns at her. “I didn’t mean it. We both have terrible marks and even if you weren’t my soulmate I wouldn’t wish it on you.” Her apology hangs in the air and Max realizes it’s the first time either of them had used the word. Soulmate.

She’s about to apologize again when Nathan interrupts her. “Can I see it?” Max’s mouth goes dry.

“I-uhm,” Nathan raises an eyebrow. “It’s on my shoulder blade.” She doesn’t give any more information than that and Nathan rolls his eyes.

“And?” Oh. Of course he doesn’t care, he’s a Prescott, girls throw themselves at him all the time. It shouldn’t—It shouldn’t hurt right?

“I can’t-” Max sighs. “Not outside.” Before Nathan can suggest it she cuts him off. “My dorm doesn’t have curfew until 8.”

He doesn’t make fun of her wall of photos or her Andy Warhol pictures, which disconcerts her considering in any usual situation he would’ve. Instead, he gazes around silently and even a little sullen before Max directs him to sit on her bed.

Gently lowering herself next to him, she hunches in on herself. “Can you-” She pauses. “Turn around for a second?” Nathan obliges without any fight but with a small sigh of impatience.

Her back to him, Max carefully lifts the hem of her shirt on her back, just far up to expose the messy scrawl on her lower shoulder blade and the embarrassingly pink clasp of her bra. “Okay,” She says nervously, holding her shirt with an iron grip.

She can practically feel his eyes roaming her back and she shifts anxiously but cold fingers flitting near her spine startles her out of the movement. He makes sure to be anywhere but near her bra but his finger tracing the word “see” makes her face blush pink. It all feels too intimate.

She snatches her shirt down before the redness of her skin can get to noticeable. “Max, I’m sorry. I didn’t think, I mean I never thought that anyone would-”

“Can I see yours?” He tenses and Max is almost scared he will say no after she bared herself so vulnerably to him. He doesn’t thankfully, lifting his stained t-shirt to expose the right side of his abdomen.

She’s never imagined what the mark would look like but it’s her handwriting. A cute, bubbly alphabet decorating his skin. Her hand skims over the word “freak” on his ribcage and his stomach tenses underneath her fingertips. She can understand why Nathan was so infatuated with her mark now, it feels like a part of you attached to someone else's skin.

He tries his best to relax against the wall that her bed is up against, trying to unravel the knot his muscles had tangled themselves up into. Max is still staring at her own sentence inked on his skin. It makes her sick.

She doesn’t know how long passed, it could have been anywhere from five minutes to fifty, but the next time she looks up her eyebrows arch up in surprise. Nathan is sleeping, propped precariously up against a picture of Max on summer vacation. She pulls his shirt back down to his waist and gnaws her lip in thought.

He hasn’t slept in so long, she knows, it doesn’t seem right to wake him up. She’s so, so exhausted and can’t fight sleep any better than he can. She gives one final glance at Nathan, tufts of dirty blonde covering his eyes, before she curls up on the opposite side of the bed, sleep overtaking her immediately.

* * *

 

Her eyes crack open to a gentle guitar riff echoing around the room. It’s muffled and Max can tell it’s coming from her phone’s one working speaker. Her lids are heavy but she forces herself to sit up and slide her hand around the sheets for her phone.

“Sleepwalking by Modest Mouse? Hero by Family of the Year?” Her tongue is thick with sleep in her mouth but she can blurrily see Nathan scrolling through her phone beside her in the still dark room. “Pretentious but not surprising.”

It’s the familiar Nathan snort that makes her think of the older version of him. Rubbing her eyes until yellow blots dance across her vision, she yawns. Her digital clock illuminates the room softly with the time of 5:04. “We go to an art school.” Her voice is flat and veiled with sleep. “Then what do you listen to?”

Nathan looks guarded, less uninhibited than he had been 8 hours ago. She raises a brow groggily. “I like whale noises.” It’s weirdly honest and Max does a double take. “And like, less intense electronic stuff. Stuff that dulls all the sound I’m around usually.”

Max is more awake now, intrigued that he’s sharing anything with her. “Is that,” Nathan is looking pointedly away from her. “What you listen to when you wake up from… the nightmares? To calm down?”

He doesn’t nod but the buzz of the bond is like an affirmation. “You didn’t actually want to shoot Chloe did you?” She tries her best to keep her words soft and mellifluous as she presses forward. “I have the dreams… your sister, the way your hands shake?”

“I was on the wrong meds for a long time. Gave me hand tremors.” His voice is hard and the usual Nathan anger is filtering through even if it’s not directed at her. “My sister,” He practically spits with venom. “Found her soulmate and fucked off to Brazil.”

Max is beginning to understand why he didn’t want anything to do with soulmates. She must of had something wonderfully romantic written on her skin while Max had put the word “freak” on her brother.

Nathan simmers down and looks like he wants to say something. “Yeah?” Max implores delicately.

“I know that my dreams have been affecting you but,” Nathan looks painfully awkward. “I can see your nightmares too.” Heat crawls up Max’s neck. He’s seen every dream about being a snotty sixth grader and every dream where she was bullied by Victoria. All the nightmares, her own… attempt.

“It’s been-” He exhales through his nose forcefully. “I’ve never tried. But I’ll talk to Victoria, we- I didn’t know.”

Max sort of wants to cry at Nathan’s attempt to protect her in some twisted way, even though he had hurt her too. She can’t tell if she’s angry or not in all honesty. “No one does.” She chokes out quietly. “I don’t like talking about it and it happened back when I lived in seattle.”

Nathan takes the hint immediately and backs off from his strange attempt to pay her back for her open-mindedness about his issues. Maybe some day she will talk about it, but not now.

“I think, I’m gonna go.” He cracks open her door before saying something so seriously that it almost scares Max. “Whatever you do, please don’t go near Jefferson. If he approaches you, ignore him.”

Then he’s gone and Max is left to watch the sunrise from her window alone.

* * *

 

**NATHAN: victoria might be stopping by soon**

She receives the text around 45 minutes before class and almost chokes on her toothbrush, spitting minty foam into a cup while coughing.

**MAX: why?? please dont tell me you said anything**

**NATHAN: she saw me leaving your dorm from her window i only said that i fell asleep in there but i figured she would interrogate you anyway**

Victoria does in fact stop by around 30 minutes before class and she does not look happy in the slightest. “Why hello Victoria.” Max pushes off of her doorframe, letting Victoria follow her inside. She’d be lying if she said that the dirty expression Victoria wore didn’t intimidate her.

“Explain.” Victoria folds her arms and Max fidgets. “Considering you already knew I was coming, what did Nathan tell you?”

“Just that you wanted answers.” Max answers simply, making sure all of her stuff is in her bag. “He really did fall asleep here last night.”

“Oh come off it.” Victoria twists her mouth into a frown. “I’m his best friend and quite frankly, neither of us can stand people like you.” It burns a lot more than Max thought it would. The prospect of Nathan hating her for no reason.

“I’m his soulmate.” Max blurts it out fast and regrets it immediately even though the widening of Victoria’s eyes was satisfying. Max freezes, hand on her camera. Victoria rolls her lower lip between her teeth thoughtfully.

“If you’re just gonna joke then I’ll just ask Nathan.” She whips her phone from the pocket of her designer jeans before marching out of into the hallways of the dorm. “Watch it punk!”

Max's spine stiffens, knowing exactly who Victoria was griping at in the hallways. “Hey,” Chloe says, rounding the corner. As if nothing is wrong. As if nothing was wrong.

“Hey?” Max repeats incredulously.

Chloe has the grace to at least look guilty and Max is weak enough to forgive her no matter what happens next. “I wanted to say I was sorry. I was being a major ass.” She toys with one of the many bracelets that hang from her wrist. “When I met Rachel. My mom she was really- really opposed to the whole idea. It took a long time for her to warm up Rachel. I realize that I shouldn’t resent you for something you can’t-”

Max really does actually cry this time. It’s such a relief, nothing left on her shoulders for the first time in weeks. Big, fat tears fall onto Chloe’s skull patterned shirt when she surges forward for a hug. “Woah, hey!” Chloe flails. “I’m not saying I can forgive him but I won’t ever hold it against you. You can’t control it.” Max buries her face into cerulean hair and laughs, ringing and bright. It’s enough.

The next picture Max takes during photography, of a blue butterfly fluttering past the window while Jefferson drones on and on, reminds her of the softness of Chloe’s hair.

* * *

 

“Let’s get them covered up.” It’s around three months later when Nathan says it, all while hogging the popcorn and the blanket as they sit in the back of his truck.

“Huh?” She asks, eyes still lazily glued to the projector screening of Heathers. Reaching over, she snatches a twizzler from the bag on the other side of Nathan’s hip.

He stops the twizzler on the way to her mouth, the warmth of his hand on hers pleasant. They decided not to go the romantic route… well yet, about a month after that night. With Max enunciating that Nathan needs mental help before she can hold a steady, well, anything with him. Much to her surprise he actually complied and has kept up with meds and treatment since even though they’re still constantly arguing.

About a week ago though Nathan had graduated to holding her hand when no one can see. She can’t really say she minds all the much, healthy Nathan much more charming and reasonable than the unhealthy one.

He absentmindedly rubs the pad of his thumb over the top of her hand while he talks and Max suddenly finds it a little harder to focus on Heathers. “Let’s cover up our marks.”

Max furrows her eyebrows and looks back at Nathan, a little hurt at first. “Neither of us like ours. Let’s make our own.” Oh. Max nods and Nathan seems a lot less nervous as he continues. “I’ve been talking with my doctor and she thinks it’s a great idea. Said something about it being a new chapter of my life or some shit like that.”

Max fights back a smile as she takes a bite of her almost forgotten twizzler. “Uh huh,” She says playfully. “I’ll get a tattoo with you.” He smirks and swipes her coca-cola can, feeling victorious. “IF, you attend group therapy.”

Nathan chokes on the soda and groans, rolling his head back onto the glass of his truck. “I knew you were gonna say that,” He gives her a half smile and Max flushes at how smug he looks. “Which us why,” He says, trailing the “y” out much longer than necessary. “I already went Thursday. Checkmate.”

Max flips him off and sinks farther into her blankets. “You lure nice girls into the back of your truck and convince them to get tattoos with you?” Nathan gives a stunned guffaw and it fills her stomach with warmth. Max is really beginning to like the sound of his real laugh.

“You’ll do it?” He looks struck and Max shifts next to him.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Max tilts her head and Nathan brings a hand up to his neck, unsure.

“I dunno.” He trains his eyes back on Winona Ryder. “Sometimes people are really touchy about marks.” Max digs her hand into the popcorn bucket and grins.

“Well, I’m sure that my new mark will be much more personal. Now shut up, you’ll miss the ending.”

She pretends not to notices the small, secret smile Nathan tucks away from her view.

* * *

 

“You told me it wouldn’t hurt!” Nathan shrieks curses at Max as the needle touches down on his ribcage, who really has to restrain herself from giggling. “This is embarrassing!” He groans, face completely red.

“Aw come on,” Max says jovially, thinly veiling how funny she thinks this is. “As good old Andy Warhol says, the most embarrassing thing is to die, and that's not happening any time soon.”

“Yeah well I might die of embarrassment.” Rolling her eyes at his dramaticism, she just watches the needle work, forming the delicate lines to cover up the rather ugly, on Max’s part, mark.

The final product is beautiful in the most simplistic way. Two whales coiling around each other, bubbles rising from the water. It’s nice, peaceful, something he needs. She doesn’t bother to wonder if he likes it, she knows he does. If she had any doubts, Nathan gives her a smile so content that it dazes her. It feels like the right way to meet her soulmate.

The butterfly on her shoulder blade _flutters_.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
